


Swing, Swing From the Trusty Tangles

by Austennerdita2533



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternatre Universe - Fusion, F/M, Rapunzel/Robin Hood AU, Rescue Missions, Some Humor, locked in tower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 14:44:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16410452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Austennerdita2533/pseuds/Austennerdita2533
Summary: An enchanter, a prisoner, and a damsel doing rescue damage.





	Swing, Swing From the Trusty Tangles

**Author's Note:**

> A contribution to the Klaroween Bingo event over on Tumblr. Enjoy!

With thick sunshine-ladder hair threaded through her fingers, all of it stuck through with pine needle debris and mulch, with wild flowers and crumpled-up leaves, a young maiden kicked in the boarded windows of a mossy forest tower without shoes, without warning, and without ceremony. And she did it with surprising spunk, too. All the while wearing an expression that was as sweet, as pure, and as perky as a flower in its first shoot towards spring. 

After she propelled herself inside with a lithe swing and landed agilely on her two bare feet, she took quick stock of the room. Noticing right away, with a twinge in her breast, that a chained and prostrate form sat slumped in a dark corner to the left. It was almost fully obscured by an upset table and chairs. As she crossed toward it - toward him - she fished something out of a brown canvas pouch on her hip before dropping to her knees to dump a gravelly purple powder into the palm of her hand. 

Lifting it to the man’s cracked lips, she then angled his head back so he could swallow it. The lavender-scented residue went down with a raw gulp, and she watched in silence as his skin transformed in hue from gray to green to yellow. Then finally, after the remedy started to take effect, she let out a small sigh as his skin normalized into a more thriving pink-and-peach.

“Unhand me, witch! I will end you for this treachery,” he cried and kicked out. Too delirious to know what, or to whom, he was speaking. “End you!”

“It’s time to go, Tower Boy,” the young woman said with a gentle _tap tap_ against his cheek. The action was much gentler than the man expected let alone deserved it to be, and it calmed his racing pulse. It eased the labored breath which was punctuated by gasp after heaving gasp that left his throat; his lungs congested, burning for air that hurt less. “She’ll be back by midnight.”

“Who—” the man croaked, his vision blurry but clearing from black to white dots in three - four - blinks, “who are you?”

“My name is Caroline, and I need you to rouse yourself, okay? Can you do that?” 

His thoughts were swimming, swimming. The whoosh in his ears a side effect of the tilted sky, which was shattered, purpler than a spelled potion or a bottle of Sauvignon, and falling, falling, falling over his head like shards of jagged glass. “I don’t…I don’t know.”

“Please do your best,” she pleaded above him. “We’ve dawdled here far too long already.”

Klaus Mikaelson - an outlaw who had outsmarted and outmaneuvered witches for centuries by evading capture with his trusty bow and arrow, who had protected his prized gift of immortality with cunning, with discretion, until a recent and unfortunate encounter with Esther the Enchanter had trapped him here in this tower cell, by himself - sat sprawled across the floor near the iron stove. His wrists and ankles bound. 

With his legs bent, trembling slightly against his chest, his teeth crunched over the leftover lavender grit in his mouth. And although it tasted strong and foul, he felt it leech strength back into his muscles and bones. It was not a lot of strength, unfortunately; but enough that, with a slide of his hip, and the flat press of his palm, he was able to flop back onto his elbows to peer up at the stranger who hovered above him now. 

A girl. 

A radiant, curious, _distracting_ girl.

Still dizzy, still teetering on the edges of coherency, Klaus took in her form from head-to-foot and appraised her with a mixture of anger, suspicion, and confusion. Surprised when she met his gaze with a soft, probing concern that didn’t equate with how he - how she - no, no, how _they_ \- had come to be together in this room. 

(After all, how could it when they’d never met before this?)

“How are you feeling?” Caroline asked as her fingers brushed a cobweb off his chin. 

_Had he been here long? Days? Weeks? Months? Years? Why was his head so damn fuzzy, and what in bloody hell was that popping in his ears?_

“Tingly. Cold. Heavy,” he said with a hoarse grunt, his vocal cords chafing painfully. “Like my nerves are waking from a deep sleep.”

“Good.” She nodded. Offered him a weak smile. “That means it’s working.”

“What is?”

Mouth quirking higher, her blue eyes flashed with light as she strummed over the canvas pouch tucked against her side, “The first part of my rescue plan, silly!” 

“Your…what?” he said.

Though she could be no more than eighteen, this Caroline was comprised of bright full curves, sharp acuity, resolve, and purpose that shined from her eyes like a cerulean blade. And Klaus saw it all in her face. A warning that read: _friendly but fierce_.

All of these qualities, each of them striking enough on their own, together, were only accentuated further by the miles-long hair that shined and coiled behind her on the floor like a golden braided rope. He’d never seen anything like it. (Or like her.) The intricate strands feathered backwards like a ladder to drape over and out through the tower window door from whence she came, disappearing over the edge like a secret. Winding away somewhere far, far out of sight to add to the tangled blonde mystery she was, or seemed to be, at present. 

“Slide up for me a little, will you? Quickly, Tower Boy, quickly!” Her voice grew harried though no less demanding. “We don’t have much time, remember?” 

“It’s the Hooded One, actually. Klaus for short.”

A snort. “I’m sorry?”

“That’s my alias,” he said. “Not to nitpick here or anything, love, but the Hooded One has been a known moniker of mine for centuries.”

“Okay…” Nonplussed, Caroline released a huff of breath. “And?”

“And nothing, sweetheart. It’s only that—well…how do I put this?” 

Thorny black restraints pricked harder into his veins when he shifted higher up the wall like she’d asked. The blasted things were fused around his wrists and ankles so his captor, Esther, could bleed him free of everything youthful or eternal he possessed and she coveted. _The wicked, rapacious hag_. The points simultaneously sucking out his magic through his skin and pouring poison back in its place to keep him sedated. To keep him alive, but barely conscious, so he was too desiccated in strength to fight their effects. Not to mention escape. 

“I’m somewhat of a legend in these parts, you see,” Klaus continued with a smirk and a flourish at his shirt, feeling a little more like himself now that the heaviness has receded some, though not enough for his liking. “Death cannot claim me while I wear this green hood of immortality and all. It’s part of who I am. Magic’s clothed outside and inside of me, almost like a cloak I cannot remove. It’s why I’m an outlaw…why I’m hunted for something only the unworthy will try to scalp from me like vultures. Or in this case, harness. So I do what I can to protect it.”

“I know. I’m aware of your reputation.”

“You are?”

“Of course,” Caroline said. He fixed her with an incredulous look as she fished for something beneath a loose floorboard, his thoughts growing more suspicious by the second. 

“Why are you surprised? I may be Princess of the Treea now but I don’t live under a freaking rock, you know. I’ve heard the stories, the vengeful chaos you’ve caused.” 

Stooped near a bookshelf, she looked back at him with a scrunch of her nose, “Wait a minute, were you—” she laughed, “was that explanation meant to intimidate or impress me or something?”

“No.”

“Good.” A set of rusty keys appeared in her hand then. She brandished them at him with a pointed jingle and crossed the room. “Because it didn’t.”

“That’s a bit harsh,” Klaus said as she bent to unlock his ankle manacles first, then the ones around his hands next. Blood spilled to the floor in large pools as she lifted them from his skin, but what a relief it was for his limbs to be free of cramping poison at last! 

“There’s no need for you to turn your nose up at me like that, by the way,” he added. “I’m only attempting to clarify who I am to my savior, my enslaver—or whatever it is you’ll claim to be once we’re through this whole ordeal.”

“Wow.”

“What?”

“I just—” Caroline balled her hands. Then groaned for extra measure. “Man, oh, man are you exhausting! Paranoid and ungrateful, too,” she said. “It’s not cute in the slightest, let me tell you.”

“Trust is not something I do, princess. Sorry.”

“You know, I’m starting to understand why Esther locked you away up here in the first place,” she frowned, her arms crossed. 

“Sure, because she’s a greedy, vain grubby bitch who—”

“No.” Caroline shook her head and stood. Pacing, the floorboards creaked as dust billowed and dirtied the bottoms of her feet. “Maybe it’s because you - not her - are distrustful, grumpy, provoking, and in dire need of some self-reflection, buddy. Especially considering I’m here! I mean, I’ve scaled a freaking cloud-high tower! And yeah, so there are plenty of people in this realm who covet your powers, like that creepy chameleon ‘I’m invisible’ thing you do; who want to exploit them for self-preservation and bask in a forever without limitations, but not me. I’m not one of them, okay? I promise I’m not. Hell—I’m the only person alive who’s risked anything for you. _Ever._ ”

“Whatever you say.” 

“It’s the truth, Klaus.”

Swallowing hard, ignoring the quaver in her voice, the moisture in her eyes, he flexed his fist against the floor and squinted into the darkness the other way.

“Right.” He sneered. “Says the wild, ruffian of a girl with twigs in her unending hair, mysterious powder in her pocket, and steel bloody feet to boot. I don’t know how the hell you climbed up here in the first place, princess, let alone why. I have a price on my hood, though. That much I know.” 

His jaw ticked. “I can’t trust you.” A bitter, pointed laugh followed this. “I can’t trust anyone.”

“Oh, come on! That’s complete bull,” she said. “You could try, you could try to trust me.”

“I could indeed.” _But I won’t._

“Prove it then,” Caroline said at the same time she bent to extend her hand to him. “Who cares if we just met? Trust me to get you out of here - no tricks, no games. Just two almost-strangers getting escape revenge on Esther. What do you say? Tower pals, then?”

_No_ was what he should say. It was the answer short-circuited in his brain, a default programmed into his lips that took little to no effort to put into effect or mean with every fiber of certainty he possessed. Why would it when it never failed him? That word never betrayed, never disappointed him in any way. He believed it never would. 

It was amazing how one small syllable could give Klaus all the power and control he craved without him needing to sacrifice a damn thing, not one shred of dignity. So he kept it close; he wore it inside his mouth when he traveled, charmed, hunted, or hid. Sometimes even when he smiled. It was his best secret defense. 

_No._

_No._

_No._

_No._

_NO._

It was like a weapon sheathed, but always nearby, just in case.

Except, now, when he turned back to meet Caroline’s gaze and saw the soft glimmer in her expression, felt the burn of her smile as it poured into him with an intensity so potent it stung, something loosened in his chest. The word ’no’ blunted along his tongue until it pulled blood. It tasted too harsh, too defining, so he relented with a different answer instead, “Give me one reason why I should trust you,” he said. “Just one.”

“Esther.”

“That’s a name not a reason. I want something better.” 

“She covets magical things, people. Collects them for herself when she can.”

“Yes.” Klaus’s voice dipped low and deep. His eyes flashed red, nostrils flaring. “Like me.”

“And me,” Caroline added quietly. “Once upon a time, she did, anyway.”

That threw him.

“What?”

“Still don’t trust me, huh?” 

“Nope.”

“Fine. Have it your way then.” She played at lightness but the effect was stilted. Unconvincing. A pang of something flashed across her face when she rubbed at a spot on her arm, swatting at her hair, but it was gone in an instant. “But you’re still coming with me,” she said.

“To be fair, sweetheart,” he smirked up at her, all angles and heavy shadows, elbows on his knees, “I did ask to have it my way. And I always get my way in the end.”

Rolling her eyes, an angry and determined little scrunch appeared in Caroline’s forehead as she yanked him upright to throw off the rest of his restraints. Kicking them against the wall where they dissolved into the mortar like black ink. Unsteadiness mixed with blood loss caused Klaus to topple a bit, however; and with a tilt, he crashed against her shoulder as they shuffled toward the window. 

She threw her arm around his back. Propped him up. The scent of her was almost asintoxicating as her touch; it invaded all of his senses. 

“Do you always smell like this?” Klaus asked.

“Like what!?” she said with a sharp twist of her head. The question seemed to hit a sensitive nerve, and although it shouldn’t matter, his stomach dropped at the shrill ring of insecurity in her voice. 

“Honey with a touch of lavender-vanilla, pine sap, coffee grounds, and rust. Or maybe it’s blood?” 

Dragging him the rest of the way across the room without breaking stride, Caroline cursed under her breath because his stubble chafed the exposed skin of her cheek. He knew it, too, but did nothing to stop it until she answered him. 

To spite him for his refusal to trust probably, she said nothing.

When they reached the ledge of the windowsill, more than a little short of breath, both of them silent and stewing as they stole sharp glances at each other, the fatal drop to the ground below looking anything but plush if one were pushed and fell, Caroline stooped for a second to tie her ridiculously long hair around him like a cocoon harness. Making sure to secure him for who knew what. Then she hummed over him sweetly until every last one of his wounds closed and he was strong enough to stand upright on his own, her head a glowing golden torch against the tempest night beyond them. 

Her tendrils of hair were a balm against Klaus’s scarring flesh. A knotted but warm, medicinal kiss. “You…you healed me.”

“I did.”

“Even though I refused to trust you?” he said.

“Especially because you refused to trust me.”

“So what now?”

Caroline lifted her lashes to his face to fix him with a fierce beaming look that was half reproach, half challenge. Then she set her hands on his shoulders with a hard squeeze - so hard - before pulling him into her arms and toppling them over the tower ledge all limbs and hair and loud, thudding heartbeats. 

“Now—” she laughed into his neck as a feeling of tangled familiarity gusted over them like buttery starlight; the two of them leaping then falling, falling then leaping, “now I swing us to freedom.”

“And my revenge? What of that?” Klaus said.

“We’ll seek it together, Tower Boy. But only after you grovel for a while, I think.” 

“Grovel?”

“What? Did I stutter?” He frowned at that. “I mean, the way I see it, you owe me more than Esther.”

His arms clung around her waist, fingers fisted in her billowy blue skirts as she swung them from branch to branch without stopping. _Princess of the Trees, indeed._

“I deserve a good, looong thank you,” she said with a pat against his back.

With life’s changeability alive in his magic green hood again, plus the ‘yes’ this daring damsel had kicked into his mouth where once there was only ‘no,’ Klaus couldn’t argue with that. So he didn’t. 

(He kissed her long and well when they landed beyond the forest, instead.)

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, as always, are lovely. Thanks for reading!
> 
> xx Ashlee Bree


End file.
